


Unbridled Lust

by Revalio898, ritardando



Series: Seasons of Lust [1]
Category: Aamir Khan - Fandom, Historical RPF, Lance Bass - Fandom, NSYNC, Otto von Bismarck - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Crack, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, German Unification Roleplay, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, Historical, Historical Figures, Historical References, M/M, Michelle Obama (mentioned) - Freeform, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Time Travel, was gonna tag crack treated seriously but that's a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29849640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revalio898/pseuds/Revalio898, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritardando/pseuds/ritardando
Summary: Otto von Bismarck only ever loved one thing; the Kingdom of Prussia. That is, until he met Lance Bass.Lance Bass never thought he'd meet a man that could fulfill all his dreams. Then Otto von Bismarck crashed into his life. Literally.A Time Traveler Romance.
Relationships: Lance Bass/Otto von Bismarck
Series: Seasons of Lust [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194524
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	Unbridled Lust

**RURAL NORTHEASTERN FRANCE, 1871**

The nightfall had brought with it a dense fog, which settled over the anxious countryside like a death shroud. While it obfuscated Louis’s sight, it did nothing to mask the dull boom of the Prussian artillery bombarding the beleaguered French defenders some miles away. _Perhaps the informant was mistaken,_ he thought to himself. _The sun has set and still they have not come._

The anxiety Louis had felt all day lessened somewhat. He glanced back towards his cottage. The rickety countryside cottage that Louis lived in masked a great secret, a secret that would hopefully one day help the French cast off the wicked Prussian invaders. The frail old inventor had created a Time Device in the workshop beneath the cottage, and the Prussians could not be allowed to steal it away.

From far off, the clatter of a dozen horses’ iron shoes upon the half paved country roads reached Louis’s ears. It was a noise he knew well, for the noise of Prussian horses always heralded destruction and sorrow. He rushed inside to turn off the lamps and bolt the door.

As he drew the window-shutters closed, they came into view. Seven midnight black stallions galloped down the road towards the cottage. Astride the six in the front were Prussian soldiers, their black cloaks merging with the inky darkness. In the rear, a monstrous man rode a large onyx charger. Even from down the road, Louis could make out the giant and lustrous mustache that graced the man’s face. It extended out two feet on either side, as inflexible and unyielding as the man who bore it. They paused and dismounted in front of the house.

Louis swore as the contingent swept up the front path, struggling to bolt the door. He could not do it in time, and with swift blow of a gauntleted Prussian fist, the door came crashing down. Three soldiers strode in, bayonets drawn. Their eyes were lost beneath the brims of their spiked _Pickelhaube_ as they surrounded Louis. The mysterious mustached man paused in the doorway, realizing that his imperious facial hair would not fit through the narrow door frame. He turned diagonally, attempting to slither through. He then proceeded to shimmy his way through the door, wedging his mustache further and further into the door. Eventually, he stopped moving.

“I am stuck again, Klaus!” he growled at one of the soldiers still standing outside. “Fetch the butter from my horse!”

“Of course, Prime Minister!” a soldier replied anxiously. Footsteps sounded as a booted pair of feet tramped down the front drive. There was a long pause. “Prime Minister! I can not locate your butter!”

“Ugh!” growled the mustachioed man. “Friedrich, go assist him. Why did we bring that stupid idiot!”

“Very well, Prime Minister!” another soldier outside replied. After a short while, both soldiers returned and began lathering up the mustache with butter.

“Do not be so stingy, Klaus! Why are you so covetous with the butter?!” screamed the mustachioed man. “Wagner! Firmly grip my buttocks and push me into the room!”

After around twenty minutes of heaving and shoving and lathering, the soldiers succeeded in pushing the man into the room. He undid his cloak and let it drop to the floor. His black armor, buffed until it gleamed, could not hide his extremely muscular physique. Above his massive moustache burned two deeply intelligent, sky blue eyes. In his left hand was a large walking stick, spiked at the bottom, and capped by a globe of pure onyx.

“I,” the man rumbled, “am Otto von Bismarck, Chancellor of Prussia and confidant of the Kaiser himself. In the name of Prussia, I demand you turn over the Time Device to us!”

“I have no such item, your Excellency. I am a mere farmer, and the most I can offer you is more butter for your mustache.” Louis replied serenely. Said mustache bristled angrily as Bismarck bent down to stare Louis in the eye.

“I know the workshop is beneath our very feet, my child. You are many things, inventor, but a good liar is not one of them.” With that retort, Bismarck drew forth his walking stick, and drove the end spike into the floor. “Ah! Hollow!” he crowed. He flipped the stick around and brought the bludgeon end of the walking stick down into the floor. With a crack and a rumble, the entire floor collapsed downwards into the workshop.

Louis had been content to act meek and hide the location of his workshop, but now he had to act. While the Prussians lay stunned around him, Louis sprung to his feet, grasped a greenish vial, and smashed it on the floor.. Noxious fumes began to fill the small room, and the Prussian soldiers were overcome with coughing fits. However, in the far corner a tremendous black form stirred, and the huge, muscled body of Bismarck filled the room as he stood up.

“I will kill you for that, you treacherous swine!” he roared. Louis darted into the second room of the workshop, bolting the door behind him. In here lay the first prototypes of the Time Device, two small copper capsules covered with exposed wiring. _How can I hide these?_ Louis thought frantically. He was reaching for a hammer when the spike of Bismarck’s walking stick ripped through the door.

“Surrender immediately!” Bismarck shouted, his voice muffled through the doorway. Louis quickly brought the hammer down on one of the capsules, pouring out sparks and steam. Before he could turn to strike the other capsule, Bismarck tore through the door, splintering it to smithereens. Bismarck lunged at Louis, but Louis managed to dive inside the intact capsule and lock the door in the nick of time.

“Get me out of here!” Louis screamed at the machine.

“Course set for random destination: Ancient Rome, 74 B.C.E.,” the machine purred back. With a searing flash of white light, Louis and the capsule vanished.

“NO!” cried Bismarck as his soldiers filed into the room behind him. “We must pursue him. Without him, we cannot manufacture these Devices on a large scale.”

“Your Excellency, perhaps we can follow him in the second capsule,” suggested Klaus.

“That seems like a bad idea,” Friedrich scoffed. “That capsule looks damaged!”

“We have no other choice. Go get the butter, Wagner. I will follow him in person.”

Having decided upon this, Bismarck began to squeeze his muscular and attractive body into the cramped capsule. Once Wagner had returned with the butter, they lubricated Bismarck’s huge mustache and squeezed it in as well.

“Excellent! Now how does this work?” Bismarck growled.

“Sire! Perhaps this button!” Klaus pressed a large red button on the upper side of the capsule, and the whole apparatus began to tremor and puff out smoke.

“This doesn’t seem righ-” Bismarck began from inside the Device, but his statement was cut short as the whole room was enveloped with searing white light. When it faded, Bismarck and the Device were gone.

“I told you this was a bad idea Klaus, but you never listen!” Friedrich snapped. “Now you’ve lost the prime minister!”

**LOS ANGELES, 2015**

The setting sun painted Beverly Hills with color, bathing the mansions of its wealthy denizens in sublime gold. Despite the lovely sight outside the balcony, however, Lance Bass felt only sadness and emptiness. He frowned down at Michael’s pixelated face on FaceTime.

“It’s our first wedding anniversary tomorrow, Mike! You can’t just leave me alone!” Lance protested.

“God! You’re so controlling!” Michael scowled nastily. “Besides, this trip was planned like two weeks ago and it’s too late to cancel!”

“But Michael, I’ve been feeling really lonely when you’re gone on your trips and I-”

“Shut up! I’m going to spend this time with the boys, so stop being so naggy and deal with it.” With a beep, Michael disconnected from the call. Feeling the tears coming, Lance rushed into his bedroom from the balcony, dashing aside a half dozen empty wine bottles as he reached for a box of tissues. It wasn’t the first time Michael had shown pure disdain for him, but this time it really stung. Lance flopped down on the massive bed and began to sob extremely loudly.

Around twenty minutes after Lance had started sobbing, his phone rang. He reached for it, hoping it was Michael. However, the caller ID told him it was his neighbor and good friend, Taylor Swift.

“Hi Taylor,” Lance said miserably.

“Hi Lance! Are you ok? We can hear you ugly-crying from our living room.”

“Not really! Michael blew off our wedding anniversary to party with the boys!”

“The boys?” Taylor asked, confused.

“That’s what all his friends at the yacht club call each other,” explained Lance.

“Honey, I think you need to get out of the house. Go out and have some fun! It’s not right that you spend your anniversary sad! Shake it off!”

“You’re right, Taylor. I should go for a walk.” Wiping away tears, Lance got up and dressed himself. He chose tiger-print yoga pants, silver snow boots trimmed with white ermine fur, and a pink shirt under a lime green blazer. To finish the look, he popped on some sunglasses whose lenses were shaped like stars.

The evening sky gleamed, and the trumpeting of a gaggle of far-off geese rang in Lance’s ears as he stepped out the front door. _It sure is pretty out_ , Lance thought to himself. _I’ll ride my unicycle to the park!_

As he leisurely rode through the neighborhood, he waved at all his famous neighbors. _I should be thankful for my life_ , Lance thought as he left the gated community. The park entrance was well lit, but at this time of the day it was quite deserted. That didn’t bother him, however. Michael was gone so much that Lance was very much used to being alone.

He made his way through a bunch of white birch trees, over to a gilded mahogany bench that overlooked a koi pond. It was serene and calm. From here, he watched the sun set behind the grassy hills. As he leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the fish in the pond, a flash of motion on the far bank caught his eye. A man and a woman stood there, embracing each other in the silver light of the rising moon. A black tide of melancholy swept through Lance’s heart, shattering the calm he had felt before.

This wasn’t what true love was meant to be. The alarm on his Apple watch, set to ring as his anniversary date arrived, rang. Lance had never felt so alone.

A sudden rumble disrupted the droning of the cicadas, and a white flash seared across the sky. A large, glowing object fell from the sky, straight on top of the loving couple. They had no time to even scream before they were crushed.

Lance hid behind the bench as the strange object hissed and opened. Steam rose from the metallic wreck as a small door popped open on the side. From this small opening wriggled a gigantic black-suited form. The mysterious man straightened up in the moonlight, and Lance gasped.

Clothed in an inky black tunic and pants, the man boasted the most developed musculature that Lance had ever seen. A black helmet with a huge golden spike protruding from the top rested upon the stranger's head. Even from across the pond, Lance could see his sky blue eyes glowing with a savage intelligence and cunning. The most impressive feature of the man, however, was the titanic steel-gray mustache that graced his upper lip. The magnificent growth extended at least two feet to either side. The ends of it smoldered with embers from the burning machine the man had crawled out of, matching the fire in his eyes. In short, he was exactly Lance’s type.

Having extricated himself from the flaming wreckage, this glorious specimen of manhood plopped himself down on the grass next to the pond and burst into tears. Lance froze behind the bench where he was hiding, unsure what to do. Finally, he rushed around the pond to the stranger’s side.

“Hello? Are you ok?” Lance asked, struggling to be heard over the man’s extremely loud sobs.

“Not at all!” whimpered the man.

“Are you hurt?” Lance asked. The man paused, looking out into the pond.

“No, not physically. But I am lost in this strange land, with no way home!” The man resumed his crying, and Lance began to cry too, because he too felt lost.

“My husband doesn’t love me!” he cried, and the two began to cry together. After about ten minutes of this, however, Lance remembered what his good personal friend Taylor had told him.

“We shouldn’t cry,” he said to the stranger. “We should go party and drown our sorrows in alcohol instead. We don’t have to be miserable sober!” The man seemed to consider this, then nodded.

“Lead the way, small man. Where should we go?” he rumbled, wiping away tears.

“I know a place,” Lance said, smiling. “What’s your name?’ The man drew himself up.

“I am the Count Otto von Bismarck, but you may call me Otto, or Bismarck, or Otto von Bismarck. And you are?”

“I’m Lance Bass. Come along, Otto!” Lance led Bismarck out of the secluded park and into the street next door, which was home to several nightclub establishments of ill repute.

“Are you quite sure this locale is respectable, Lance von Bass?” Bismarck asked nervously as crowds of intoxicated young adults surrounded him to admire and touch his giant mustache.

“Not at all, Otto! But that’s the fun of it all! Come inside!” Lance laughed, dragging his new friend into one of the establishments. He made a beeline straight for the bar.

“Hey Joe!” Lance said to the bartender, who was a good friend of his from his clubbing days. “Can we get some shots over here?” Joe nodded as Lance grinned at Bismarck. “We’re gonna get you so drunk you won’t even _remember_ where you’re from! Let’s take shots together!”

“That sounds most pleasing to my aching heart,” said Bismarck. “Bring forth the intoxicants!” For the first time, Bismarck smiled. Their eyes met, and time stood still as the chemistry between the two of them made itself clear. Lance cleared his throat as they both looked away, blushing furiously.

Around twenty shots later, however, Bismarck remained unaffected by the alcohol.

“I must blame my hardy constitution and rugged frame,” he apologized to Lance. “I cannot seem to get intoxicated!”

“Hurr glurr burr,” replied Lance, who was quite far gone by this point. “Glubby-wubby woo.”

“Lance von Bass,” Bismarck said with some concern. “You seem out of your wits, my dear friend. I must escort you to your residence.” Joe, the bartender, came over as he was wiping down a mug.

“Not again… Lance always gets wasted when his husband pushes him away. I hope he’ll be ok.”

“His significant other sounds most unsuitable for such a kind hearted man,” Bismarck replied.

“His name is Michael, and he’s the worst!” Joe sighed as he put the mug down. He pulled out a pen and paper. “Here’s Lance’s address. You better take him home.”

“I am most grateful, drink peddler. Please accept this generous tip.” Bismarck drew a large gold ingot from his tunic and dumped it on the counter and turned to Lance.

“Are you ready to go, Lance von Bass?” he asked Lance, but all he received in reply was confused blubbering. He sighed and picked up Lance with one arm, wading towards the exit through crowds of dancing clubgoers. By shaking his head slowly to and fro, he was able to clear a path with his mustache.

Once outside, the chilly night air stung Bismarck’s face as he peered around for a horse he could ride to the address. However, the entire road was instead filled with strange, noisy metal beasts. _What a fantastic land_ , he thought. He flagged down a nearby man who was drinking from a lurid orange cup.

“Excuse me, good sir! Impress upon me where I can find this residence!” he said politely.

“Oh… um well I don’t know exactly where this is but that street is roughly west of here,” the man responded nervously, eyeing the gilded saber strapped to Bismarck’s waist.

“You have been most helpful, short man. Please, accept this compensation!” Bismarck drew another gold ingot from his cloak and dropped it into the man’s drink, then turned to consider the bustling street. Dragging Lance alongside him like a sack of potatoes, Bismarck identified a metal beast headed west, down the street. Bismarck crouched, readying himself, and then sprung a dozen feet into the air to land on the roof of the moving car gently, with the grace of a nimble cat.

With both him and Lance safely secured atop the car, Bismarck sat back and examined his new companion for the first time as the car continued west. The yellow street lights cast flickering lights and shadows over Lance’s face, but Bismarck could still make out his handsome, angular features. _What a marvelous man_ , Bismarck thought to himself. _Surely he deserves better than a husband who abandons him on his anniversary. I would never do such a thing!_

Bismarck’s musings came to an end as the metal beast stopped at an intersection.

“Oh! This is my destination. I must pay the beast!” Bismarck cried. He drew forth yet another gold ingot, but could not determine where to place the payment. He noticed the glass window in the front of the beast. _Aha!_ he thought, drawing his walking stick and shattering a hole in the glass. He dropped the gold through the gap, then dragged Lance off the car and headed down the street as screams emanated from the beast. _How kind of it to thank me,_ Bismarck thought.

The houses on the street were rather imposing and showed signs of wealth. _Lance von Bass must be a respected noble to live in such a locale,_ Bismarck noted approvingly. He arrived at the address that Joe the bartender had hastily scribbled for him.

The house was small, but in a good, second home kind of way. Bismarck thought that the front retaining wall was a little bit much for such a small property, but he did appreciate the way the embellishment conveyed a sense of regal purpose to the otherwise slightly drab home.

Dragging Lance to the door, Bismarck swiftly came to the realization that he had no way of opening the locking mechanism on the front door. He drew forth his walking stick, and shattered the wooden door with one powerful stroke. He strode inside, admiring the decor. The house was decorated with both wealth and taste.

A gilded couch overlooked the backyard, where several dogs barked and frolicked. Dropping Lance on the couch, Bismarck looked out over the yard. _What strange, small dogs,_ Bismarck thought to himself. _And they’re just left outdoors? What if a wolf or coyote ate them?_

Having done his gentlemanly duty of escorting Lance home, Bismarck turned to leave. But, the glimmer of a picture frame caught his eye. He picked it up with a massive, gauntleted hand. It was an image of Lance and his husband on their wedding day.

Lance smiled in it, dressed immaculately. His cheeks shone with youthful vigor, but the smile did not quite reach his eyes. Beside him stood his husband. O, what a cruel visage presented itself to Bismarck! The husband’s mouth was set in a villainous sneer. His harsh brow hung over eyes that brimmed with such malevolence and cruelty that it made Bismarck recoil. Bismarck shattered the frame to dust in his gauntleted fist. He could not leave Lance alone to face this monster!

Finding a comfortable chair, Bismarck settled into it. He watched the moonlight shine on Lance’s delicate face until he fell asleep.

**NASSAU, THE BAHAMAS**

Michael took another sip of his cocktail as he reclined by the poolside. The setting tropical sun blazed through the gauzy clouds and painted the Carribean sky a stunning orange.

“I’m so glad we were able to take this trip, babe,” he said to the man sprawled next to him. “Lance was _really_ getting on my nerves.”

The man laughed. “Why do you even keep him around anyways? You could do so much better!”

Michael squeezed the man's arm and laughed. “I already _have_ done better, with you!” He sighed. “I just need Lance’s money until my modeling career really takes off. Then I can leave his pasty ass for you, baby.”

Michael laid back down and scrolled through his Instagram feed. A recently uploaded photo from his favorite nightclub’s account caught his eye.

“What the hell?” He murmured, zooming in on a picture of Lance laughing and chatting with a man. And what a sight this mystery man was! His well-cut black tunic could not conceal his exquisite musculature. A golden spike gleamed atop his gilded helm. Eyes colored sky blue sparkled under a noble, chivalrous brow. His cheekbones were so well defined and contoured that Michael began to sweat. But his most glorious feature, by far, was his imperious mustache. This triumph of human facial hair extended at least two feet in either direction, and even through the grainy photograph Michael could feel its sex appeal. He suddenly sat up.

“What?! Lance is cheating on me!”

“What do you mean?” asked his companion.

“Look at him flirting with that hunk!”

“Maybe they’re just friends?”

“I’m not taking any risks. I can’t have my cash cow stolen from me! I’ll be back in a couple days, I just have to go home and get rid of this other guy. I’ll be back soon babe!” Michael ran off to call the private jet and pack. _No one will get between me and Lance’s money_ , he thought angrily.

**LANCE’S LIVING ROOM, BEVERLY HILLS**

It was the morning sun, shining through a gap in the living room curtains, that finally woke Lance up. He groaned as he sat up, working out the kinks in his back that had come from sleeping on the stiff couch. _What happened last night?_ He thought groggily, trying to remember.

All he could remember was getting drunk with the hottie from the park. _How did I get back home_? With a rattling noise, Bismarck emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tray laden with food.

“Lance von Bass! You are awake! I have prepared a small banquet for your recovery!”

“I drank so much last night… how am I not hungover?” Lance wondered aloud while accepting the tray.

“I kept pouring water down your throat while you were asleep, so that you would not feel unwell when you awoke,” Bismarck explained.

“How thoughtful of you, Otto! And no one’s ever made me breakfast in bed before…”

“A man as kind hearted and exquisitely formed as you deserves such pampering every day,” Bismarck replied fiercely. Lance blushed and looked away.

“Your partner is a very lucky person, Otto.”

“Ach! I have no partner Lance von Bass. I am quite alone.” Lance looked into his Mediterranean blue eyes and saw the same loneliness there that he had often felt himself, when Michael had left on one of his many work trips. He cleared his throat, nervous about all the feelings this man was eliciting from him.

“Let’s go see a movie or something Otto. Do you know what a movie is?”

“No,” replied Bismarck, “But it sounds most delicious. Let us depart immediately!”

Lance led him to the garage, and opened the door of a car.

“How wonderous these metal horses are,” commented Bismarck, “that they allow you to sit inside their bodies! How marvelous!”

Lance decided that he should probably drive himself, as Bismarck seemed to have no clue what an automobile was. He wondered again how Bismarck had managed to get him home last night, but decided against asking. _It’s better not to know_ , he decided.

As they drove to the movie theater, Bismarck regaled Lance with his war stories. Lance had trouble understanding the deluge of historical German names, but from his understanding, Bismarck’s friend-with-benefits Klaus had sought a more meaningful relationship, having caught feelings. However, Bismarck felt that he wasn’t ready for a relationship at the time, so they had agreed to be just friends from then on.

And so it was that they eventually arrived at the movie theater. It was not yet midday, and so the parking lots lay vacant under the balmy California sun. Lance pulled into a parking spot nearby, wondering what movie they should watch.

“Are you in the mood for a romance story, Otto?” Lance asked, turning off the car.

“I have one in mind,” Bismarck replied, staring at Lance Xso intently he blushed. In the muted light from the tinted windows, Bismarck had never looked more appealing.

“Oh, Otto…” Lance said, reaching up to stroke Bismarck’s mustache. “Your mustache is so lustrous and full…”

Their lips met in an explosion of lust, with such force that Bismarck’s spiked helm was knocked ajar. For several minutes, they kissed passionately. Then, the honk of a nearby car horn jarred Lance back to reality.

“Wait… I can’t, I shouldn’t. I’m sorry but I’m married!” he babbled, opening the car door.

“Wait, Lance von Bass!” Bismarck cried. Lance did not heed his words. Tears filled his eyes, and he ran away from the car, away from the only man that had fulfilled his desires.

**TAYLOR SWIFT’S MANSION, BEVERLY HILLS**

Lance reached for another box of Kleenex, tossing aside the last one into a growing pile of empty tissue boxes.

“I just feel so guilty, Taylor! I violated my wedding vows like they were worthless!” he sobbed. Taylor looked on sympathetically, still wearing the rehearsal costume for the 1989 World Tour she had been trying on when Lance burst into her house, sobbing.

“Lance, sweetheart, it’ll be alright. Sometimes things just happen in the heat of the moment.” she said soothingly, patting Lance on the back.

“No! I betrayed Michael! He’s supposed to be the one for me! I just-”

Further speech eluded Lance as a fresh wave of sobs wracked his frame. Taylor bit her lip nervously, staring at him.

“Lance… there’s something I need to show you. I didn’t want to be the one to show you this, but you deserve to know.” She picked up her phone, scrolling through her Instagram DMs.

Lance sniffled loudly. “What is it?”

“Well, Cara Delvigine and Martha Hunt were doing a charity bikini modeling shoot for that non profit that knits sweaters for hairless chihuahuas in Nassau, and they saw Michael kissing a man at the private jet terminal.”

“What?!” Lance said, devastated.

“Yes! And then they sent a picture in the Taylor Squad group chat. Then Jessica Alba said she had seen Michael with that man many times, when Mike said he was going on ‘business trips’. And then Karlie Kloss told us the other man’s name. Lance… Michael is cheating on you with Aamir Khan!” Taylor said sympathetically.

“Oh my god!” Cried Lance. “All those business trips and mysterious phone calls! He’s cheating on me!”

“Lance, babe, he’s not the one for you. Don’t be upset that you’ve found someone who truly cares for you!”

Lance felt a jolt of fear and panic. “Taylor, I ran out on Otto after we kissed. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Lance. Just find him and tell him how you feel. Tell him ‘you belong with me’!”

“But I don’t even know where he is now!” Lance cried out. All of a sudden, there was a tapping at the window. Taylor frowned and went to open it, and then screamed and dove for cover as a pigeon darted into the room.

“It’s a messenger pigeon!” Lance realized ecstatically. “It has to be Otto!” He jumped over the table and tackled the bird out of the air, wrestling the paper note out of its beak.

“What does it say?” Taylor asked from behind the couch, where she was hiding.

“It says he’s sorry, and that he booked a ticket back to Germany on an ocean liner!” Lance threw down the note and looked at Taylor despairingly. “What do I do?”

“True love is hard to find, Lance. This is your love story! Don’t let him get away!”

With that final piece of advice, Lance’s mind was made up. He jumped to his feet, and ran out of the room. _I have to get there before he leaves!_

**WHARF 27, PORT OF LOS ANGELES**

“All aboard!” shouted the ship’s attendant. “We set sail in twenty minutes!”

The shrill announcement barely penetrated the fog of sorrow that surrounded Bismarck. His mustache, normally perky and firm, drooped sadly as he wiped tears away with a silk handkerchief. The pain of losing Prussia was insignificant compared to the pain he felt because of losing Lance.

“Otto! Otto! Where are you! Wait!” Yelled a familiar voice somewhere down the wharf. Bismarck stood up, not believing his eyes.

“Lance von Bass! What are you doing here?” He exclaimed.

“I was a fool before, Otto. It doesn’t matter who was in my life before. The past is the past, but you’re my future!”

“Ah! Lance von Bass,” said Bismarck, wiping away tears of joy, “I had hoped that you would say that. Now come here and unify the fatherland!” With a joyous roar, he swept Lance off his feet.

“Let’s go home, Otto!” Lance said happily.

**LANCE’S BEDROOM, BEVERLY HILLS**

“I need to shower,” Lance said breathlessly next to Bismarck in the bed. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Very well, Lance von Bass. Hurry back!” Bismarck replied, straightening his mustache while remembering the night of passion he had just had.

The landline telephone ran harshly, interrupting Bismarck’s euphoric reverie. He had seen telephones before, but this modern version looked extremely sleek and dangerous. He picked it up cautiously.

“Hello, you have reached the residence of Lance von Bass.” he said into the phone.

“You! You nasty homewrecker!” spat Michael.

“No, I am the Count Otto von Bismarck. Who are you?”

“I’m Lance’s husband! Where is he?”

“Do not worry, Lance is merely in the shower to wash himself. He will be out shortly.” Bismarck replied politely. “Can I take a message?”

“Tell that two timing slut I’m going to divorce him and take all his money!” snarled Michael. Hearing his beloved be degraded in this manner, Bismarck’s ire rose.

“You nasty weasel,” he growled. “We are all aware of your affair with the actor Aamir Khan. How about we meet in the park by your house and sort this out ourselves?”

At the mention of Aamir Khan, Michael gasped. After a long pause, he responded.

“All I want is money. If you give me some, I’ll leave the two of you alone forever!”

“That can be arranged. I will see you there.” Bismarck hung up the phone, troubled.

“Lance! I am going to take a walk and take in the chrysanthemum blooms!” He lied as he laced up his boots.

“Good idea Otto!” Came a muffled reply through the bathroom door. Bismarck glanced at his heavy walking stick. _I may come in need of this_ , he thought grimly. Picking it up, he hurried out of the room. He had fought many battles before, but the battle for Lance’s heart was just beginning. It promised to be the most difficult conflict of Bismarck’s career.

**THE CLEARING IN THE PARK WITH THE KOI POND, LOS ANGELES**

The crisp, young grass crunched as Bismarck strode across the field in his military boots. His cape flared out behind him like the wings of some terrible predatory bird, and his walking stick whistled through the air as he swung it to and fro. His mustache gleamed with a fresh coat of lacquer. Bismarck was ready for battle.

The clearing was exactly the way it had been the day Bismarck had landed in the time capsule. The bench, the pond, and the trees looked exactly the same. Off to one side, the bronze Time Device lay where Bismarck had left it. There was no sign of Michael.

“Michael!” Bismarck growled, “Show yourself, you coward!”

“Oh hello, Bismarck,” came a snide reply. Bismarck whirled around as Michael stepped out from the trees, holding a gun. He lazily cocked it, and then aimed it squarely at Bismarck’s head, coming closer.

“Did you think you could just waltz in and take Lance from me?” Michael sneered. “He’s mine, you hunky mustachioed snack. And you, unfortunately, will disappear mysteriously.”

“You do not have to do this Michael. Place down your arms, and everyone can walk away from this!” Bismarck said evenly.

“You won’t walk anywhere!” screamed Michael, and he fired the entire magazine of the handgun at Bismarck. When the smoke cleared, however, Bismarck stood tall, glaring at Michael. His mustache, covered with firm lacquer and buffed till it was rock hard, had deflected every bullet!

“I gave you a chance, child!” rumbled Bismarck angrily. “Now you shall go away!” Bismarck smote Michael upon the temple with his walking stick, dazing him. Then, with a single fluid stroke, he shoved Michael into the Time Device and bolted the door shut.

“Tell Klaus I said ‘Hello’,” Bismarck yelled through the glass. “And know that Lance von Bass and I will be very happy together!” Michael’s scream of rage and frustration was lost in a searing burst of white light as the Time Device activated. When the flash faded away, there was only a scorch mark left.

**EPILOGUE, 2016**

“Prime Minister Bismarck! Are you sure you want to unify Germany? It’s so _big!_ ” Lance exclaimed as he sat in Bismarck’s lap.

“Yes,” Bismarck replied gravely, carrying Lance over to the throne they had just bought from the sex store. “The many small states of Germany must be _pounded_ into submission!” Before they could continue, however, the landline phone rang. Lance picked it up.

“Hey Lance! It’s Taylor! I’m having Malala Yousafzai and Michelle Obama over right now for tea, could you guys tone down the German unification roleplay? We can hear all of it…”

“Prime Minister! The Allies are wondering if we can turn down the noise of the states being pounded into submission!” cried Lance.

“Absolutely not! How preposterous of them. Prepare for punishment!” bellowed Bismarck.

“Oh of _course_ , sir!” Lance said, panting.

“Um… Nevermind. You take care now!” With a click, Taylor hung up. Bismarck broke out laughing, and Lance gazed contentedly at the love of his life.

“Oh Otto!” he sighed, stroking Bismarck’s face. “Your mustache is so full and lustrous!”

“I know, Lance von Bass.” Bismarck smiled back, and they both kissed each other again fiercely in the torrid light of the mid afternoon sun.


End file.
